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well you're blunt.

I sell sex machines.

If porn were private, I wouldn’t sell anything.

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can we just double back around so i can ask why the hell you're even discussing porn in the first place? isn't that supposed to be a private thing?

Daniel Radcliffe is in it and atheists, too. 

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testifiedtimaeus replied to your post: so i logged on and suddenly horse sex. ok.

It’s a good tag.

i'm gonna be honest and say i really, really do not understand you at all.

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so i logged on and suddenly horse sex.

ok.

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my whole dash is dave.

maybe i should follow more people.

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if you two do that again i swear to god i'll kill you both myself.

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OH FUCK.

OH FUCK.

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.

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oh, shit.

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i hear noises in the kitchen.

hmm...

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Hugging Rose is like coming home. It's like coming back from a long day at school to find that your dad made your favorite dinner. It's like hot summer days washing cars and warm summer nights under the stars. It's like you've finally returned to everything that ever mattered.

Not that you’d ever say this out loud, it’s way too cheesy, even for you. But you can think it all you want inside the confines of your own head. Rose rests her head on your shoulder and you almost go weak at the knees, wanting nothing more than to hold her close and never let go; unfortunately, if you do, you’ll never get back to her apartment to see Dave and Jade, both of whom probably want their own Egbert Hugs™. For now, though, you’re content with just holding her.

“I missed being around,” you reply, breathing in the scent of her shampoo. She always smelled nice, in a non-creepy way, of course--one of the many things you missed about her. She’s a lot shorter than you imagined she’d be, but then again your family always had the tall genes. Laughing, you add, “Now it’s up to you to make sure I don’t leave that long ever again.”

“Show off,” you remark as you watch the garbage go sailing through the air. You aren’t worried about John’s things if he isn’t worried about them. Well, that isn’t true. You’re Rose Lalonde. You’ll probably call the airport tomorrow to see if his items have turned up before he even gets a chance to do so. Regardless, you watch him stand up, extending his arms, and you only have a moments hesitation before pulling him into a hug.

You wrap your arms around him, warmly accepting his embrace. It’s been a long time since you’ve seen your friend in person. Of course you weren’t going to turn down this. Even an ice queen wanted to feel and give affection from time-to-time, and lately you’d been craving it.

It feels like a weight off your shoulders to have him here, in your arms, and you decide to keep him there a little longer. You place your head on his shoulder, not caring that people are bustling in an out around the two of you. You just enjoy the fact that John is safe, and here, and in your arms. You want all of your friends to be within your grasp, so that you can keep an eye on them.

People seemed to forget that you had lost too, that you were hurting, and having those few people in the world you could open up to near you just made you relax so much more. You were sick of worrying about what the world was doing to them.

You press your cheek against him and smile a little, not caring if it’s awkward for him or too long. You needed a moment.

All these thoughts flood you, but you keep your tone casual and merely comment with “I missed having you around.”

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You’ve never liked the airport. Far too noisy, hot, and prone to spreading disease. But over the years you’ve pretty much gotten used to it, but never over it, oh no, still too much to hate about them. Yet as you sit there at the Subway, shoving some kind of sandwich down your throat with an open bag of chips next to you and a large soda in your other hand, you find that you don’t really mind it that much when you realize who exactly it is that’s coming to get you.

Rose.

God, it’s been years since you’ve last seen her, and you wonder what she’ll be like. Will she be the same as you remember? Probably not, you figure; after all, she’s way older than her mid-teens now. She’s probably still just as lovely as she was back during the game, maybe even more so now that she’s grown out of those awkward teen stages. You guess that she still probably likes her weird, disturbing literature and writing her stories she’d never let you read.

Mostly, you wonder if she’ll even recognize you.

The hand that drops onto your shoulder a few moments later both startles and reassures you. She asks if your luggage is still missing, and you reply through a mouthful of food; her answering glare does little more than make you roll your eyes and swallow. “Yeah, my stuff’s still gone. They said that it might still be on the plane because a few other people have missing luggage, too.” You shrug. “Whatever, I can just go get new clothes.”

Grinning, you stuff the last of the sandwich into your mouth and crumble up the paper, packing the paper ball into the now empty bag of chips and tossing both into the trash can twenty feet away. You sink the shot, as always. Oh, the beauty of wind powers. When you finish chewing the remainder of your food you stand up, turn around to face Rose, and stretch your arms out, clearly asking for a hug.

You hated the traffic at the airport. It was probably one of the more horrendous things, in your opinion, but you managed to find a parking space that didn’t feel like it was miles from the terminal. You’d told him to go get Subway, so you figured it was obvious you intended to meet him there. It’d be easier, after all, to locate someone based on their choice of restaurant. Not that you felt like you could honestly mistake John in a crowd. Your friends stood out to you like a beckon of, not to make a pun, light. Finding things just happened to be something you were also rather skilled in.

You’re still in your work clothes, which means dressed in a slightly uncomfortable dress suit, but you withstand the ungodly temperature in the terminal for John’s sake. You’d try to sneak up on him, but you don’t want to frighten him. You haven’t spent time enough with him to know whether or not he has PTSD, and you’d really prefer if he didn’t do the windy thing in a crowd of people.

Calling out seems silly to you, what with the amount of folks crammed into the sandwich shop, so you slip up beside him and put a hand on his shoulder, after narrowly avoiding someone spilling a fountain drink on your suit. “It’s way too crowded here. Did they manage to find your luggage?”

Always the mother hen, the first words weren’t “It’s been too long” or “I’ve missed you so much” like you’d thought all the way there. No, just a simple concern about bags that could easily be replaced.

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oh, cool.

yeah, i'm at o'hare. how long do you think you'll be?

It’s not a problem.

I can be there shortly.

Are you at O’hare?

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oh, uh, you don't have to if it's not convenient! i was planning on catching a cab anyway.

Oh. Should I come get you at the airport?

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i've been in chicago for a couple hours now, i'm just waiting for my luggage. they lost it.

but yeah, i'm looking forward to it! :D

Well. When you’re in Chicago then, unless you’ve already landed, I would enjoy having an evening out with you.

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what? haha, of course not! i'm not that much of an asshole, rose, ok? i really wouldn't mind going out with your for a night, and to be honest i haven't done much dating myself so it would be a fun experience.

Is this out of pity?

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i've been lurking. but i can if you want me to! it would be easier without all of that transuniversal bullshit, right?

besides, what are friends for?

entertainingbanter replied to your post: exuberantbiologist replied to your post:…

i can take you on one too, you know.

John. That was an abrupt conversation entrance, and, may I add, an unexpected one.